A Miscarriage on Mother’s Day

This was written the morning after a particularly emotional night shift on my Obstetrics and Gynaecology rotation. Some patients stay with me longer than others, and I have thought often about the woman this was written about. Writing is one way I choose to process some of the tough everyday situations we face in medicine.

A Miscarriage on Mother’s Day

Irony stalks down the corridor with her shoulders slumped,
Dragging her trumpet along the linoleum;
An ugly grimace shows her sharp teeth.
Grief arrives in a rush, blowing the window open;
It can often be gusty here.
Motherhood comes to the door and asks after you,
I tell her that visiting hours are over.
Sentiment loiters in the waiting room
then leaves, red-faced with shame.
Hope makes a mad dash to the airport
To catch you before you board the plane.

– Nadia AliI am a sixth year medical student at the University of Auckland and (all going well) will be graduating in November 2016.

Editor's Picks

Popular Posts

Glenn Colquhoun talks to Kathryn Ryan on Radio New Zealand about 'Late love,' his recent book about the overlap in his life between poetry and medicine as well as his work as a GP working with young people in Horowhenua.